Of wolves and war
by Dellinah
Summary: In an AU where Balto is a wolf-dog who belongs to a human, his friendship with his owner and all they've built together is put in danger when WWII begins and the two struggle to remain together in a time where everything seems to be building up against them.
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter I**_

 _ **Balto's boy**_

* * *

"What's its breed?"

I've heard that question enough times that I know the answer before it comes.

"It's a mutt." James says.

"He's a husky mix." My boy adds after his father, like he always does when James calls me a mutt. I remember I used to wonder why they always lied about what I really am, but then I found that people would be afraid of me if they knew I'm part wolf.

But not my boy. Not my Charlie.

I feel a thug on my leash as he pulls me closer to him until my cheek is pressed against his leg and it is a little uncomfortable, but I don't care. I'm worried about him. He only keeps me this close when he's nervous.

"Alright," The woman who asked what my breed is continues after checking on a long list, "He can travel with you. But he's a big dog. Please make sure to keep him on the leash."

He seems relived, letting my leash go loose. "Thank you."

Charlie begins walking, and I make sure to stay by his side all the way through. We follow James through hallways and crowds of people, with lots of children around us. Some of them are leaking water through their eyes, which is a weird thing humans do to express their sadness. I can smell coal, and the ear-piercing sound of trains has no end.

James sits down on a bench, and Charlie sits down by his side, but as far away as he can from his father, and I sit over Charlie's feet. It always makes him smile. But not this time.

I look up at him, and he seems to be distracted, fidgeting with the important papers he's holding. James looks down at me, and then he becomes mad. He doesn't like me.

I don't like him either. Neither does Charlie.

"I can't believe you're taking him, Charles," James seems to do the human-equivalent of growling. I noticed he's the only one who calls Charlie 'Charles'.

Charlie looks at him with a scowl and then he finally looks at me. My heart skips a beat when my boy finally acknowledges me again, running his hand through the tuft of fur on my head. He doesn't answer his father, and for that, I'm glad. I know Charlie is nervous, and James makes that worse.

"Make sure he doesn't make a mess. Keep him on a leash all the time. Your grandfather won't be pleased if he kills his chickens," James sounds menacing when he talks, "And feed him properly."

Silence follows.

"And Charles," James calls again, and I watch it as Charlie's eyes move away from me and toward him, "Be a brave man."

James stands up and walks away from us, leaving us alone. Charlie pets the now empty space beside him on the bench. I wag my tail before jumping up according to his hint, and I expect him to be relieved that his father is gone, but instead, Charlie's eyes seem about to leak.

He engulfs me in a hug, pulling me close by the neck and burying his face in my neck fur.

These last few weeks have been weird.

It all began when Charlie stopped going to school, and stopped taking me for walks. He stopped smiling, and then he began putting all his stuff in the brown bag he uses when we go for a walk in the woods, but this time, he wasn't happy. I didn't understand it, Charlie likes to walk in the woods with me, he should have been happy.

But the more time passed, the surer I was we were not going for a walk in the woods.

And then this morning, we woke up before the sun had even risen, and James brought us here.

I feel Charlie's arms slowly letting me go, but I keep close to him. The sun has only just risen, and the streets of London were already busy. They have been busy for a while now.

I lick Charlie's face, and he looks at me with a small smile, but it goes away and he frowns again.

"Good boy, Balto, good boy." He pets me, but I can't help folding me ears back and tilting my head.

"Come on," He calls, and I promptly jump down from the bench. Charlie picks up his bag from the floor where he'd left it and we begin walking.

I follow him towards the stores in the train station while I look around, sniffing and hearing my surroundings while we make our way. Mostly women and children surround us, and the few men wear the same clothes that James was wearing before he left: dark green and weird hats.

Charlie stops walking and pulls my leash so that I stop as well. He ties me to a bench and tells me to be good as he walks into a store. I turn my attention to a man in the green clothes who is hugging a young boy. They're both crying as the man walks away.

Most of us dogs, or wolves for that matter, never have contact with their fatherly figure. My mother was a white wolf, whom I last saw when I had just opened my eyes. And then, I saw Charlie, still a human pup at the time.

Because of James, I thought human fathers were like dogs': they didn't care for their offspring. But little time living among humans showed me that it was just James. The boy and the man who just said their goodbyes still leaked water from their eyes, but neither James nor Charlie did it as they parted.

"Balto!" I turn my head when I hear my boy's voice calling me, and as always, my tail wags and I jump up in hopes to give him a hug, but my leash keeps me down. Still, I wag my tail happily as he approaches me, crouching down and leaving a bowl on the floor.

My nose picks up a warm, nice smell. I look down and see that he brought me human food leftovers, and I gladly eat it. Charlie sits down in the bench I'm tied to and begins eating his own food, eventually reaching down to pet me. I look up at him from time to time to make sure he's alright.

We eat our meals in silence, and once he's done, I lick his hands that smell of food. He giggles at that, calling me a silly dog, and I'm glad he's smiling again.

I love my boy.

A man yells some sort of call, and Charlie stands up.

We walk toward a train and get in a line. I get some dirty looks from people around us, and some even seem scared of me; but everyone is fidgety and they seem worried and sad, like Charlie is.

Once we get to the beginning of the line, the woman who asked for my breed earlier asks Charlie to hand her the papers he's been holding, and once he does, we get into the train.

I don't like trains, at all. They're shaky, and there isn't much space to run and I must hold it in if I need to go to the bathroom. We've only been in one travel before, and it was enough for me to decide I don't like trains.

We walk in and walk through hallways before we get into a small cabin. Charlie lets go of my leash and I sit down as he puts his bag in the shelf above our heads and then sits down. He shakes his fingers to call me, and I approach him. I think of jumping up to lay beside him, but then I remember that the last time I did that ended up with James yelling at me because dogs shouldn't be in trains, let alone on the seats. So, I just lay down over Charlie's feet again. James is not here, but I decide not to take any chances.

I don't like it when people yell at my boy.

Charlie puts his hands on either side of my face and ruffles it as he looks out the window.

His eyes are leaking again.

I don't know where we're going to, and I don't like this at all. And I feel like he doesn't either. But if he's going, I'm going with him.

* * *

 **I had this idea a while ago, and decided to try it out today. Hope you liked it! Not sure if I'll continue it, but I do hope so.**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter II_**

 ** _The soldier_**

* * *

The hours pass us by and now, the daylight is almost gone. Outside I can see the sun will set soon, as Charlie sleeps deeply on his seat, clutching to his bag like it's his source of life.

Our train comes to stop and some people walk in the corridors. There are no men with green clothes in the train like there were in the station, just children and women. I still have no clue as to where we're going, and I'd try to figure it out now if I wasn't desperate to relieve myself.

I gently bite Charlie's fingers and he blinks his eyes open, smacking his lips as he stretches himself and yawns. He looks down at me and I know he knows what I want. Humans aren't that sensitive. They need complicated language signs and sounds to communicate. Most of them have a hard time understanding the genius simplicity of our language. But Charlie is different.

Charlie leaves his bag in the train and he takes me outside with quite some effort as we try to dodge the people crowding the station.

This one is also full of men in green clothes.

We get to an empty lot near the station and Charlie unlatches the leash from my collar so that I can walk around freely.

"Don't take too long, now," He tells me, "And stay near, alright?"

I yelp before I walk away from Charlie. I relieve myself quickly and go do some place recognition. I can smell metal, and I hear children crying not that far away from where we are.

Then, I smell of blood.

Usually, I don't get away from Charlie or disobey his orders. I know he gets worried if he can't see me, and I don't want to be far from my boy anyway. But once something gets my attention, I can't really control myself. So, I run toward the smell.

"Balto!" He calls from behind, but I'm too focused on my search to look at him.

He begins running after me, and I know that if he gets me before I find the source of the blood, I'll never know where it comes from. I have a strong tracking sense due to being part wolf, never letting go of a trail once I've put my mind to it. I run faster, and it doesn't take long until I leave Charlie way behind.

Humans only have two legs that they use to run, an incredible disadvantage compared to us.

I can feel that the smell of blood is stronger than ever, and now I also catch a delicious scent of food. I'm between train rails, empty still trains and there are boxes all around me when I find the source and I stop in my tracks.

A man in one of those green clothes is sitting on a box, eating, with a bag by his side. His hand has a bandage around it and red liquid has colored it, and I know the blood's still fresh in his wound from the smell. He's alone and we're far from any other humans. I don't know what he's doing here, but he doesn't seem to be dangerous.

I duck behind a box when he looks at me, noticing my presence at last. He smiles at me, and I've learned that when humans do that, it's because they like you. Dogs show their teeth when they're angry, humans do it when they're happy. I used to confuse that a lot when I was a pup.

"Hey, boy," He reaches out in my direction, holding a piece of the bread he's eating, "Come here!"

I know better than approaching strangers in deserted places, but I'm so hungry that I can't bother to worry right now. Besides, he's smiled at me, so I don't think he's a threat. Still, I try to be careful as I get close to him and take the food he's offered me.

"What are you doing here, buddy? Are you lost?" He runs his hand through my fur and caresses my ears, before he reaches for the collar in my neck, "Balto, hum?" He reads the little tag with my name on it.

"Balto!" Charlie calls and he appears from behind one of the trains, finally catching up to me. He sees me and the man and runs to us, grabbing me by the collar and pulling me close to him.

"Is this your dog?" The man smiles at Charlie.

"Yes, thank you for holding him," Charlie tries to catch his breath as he attaches the leash to me once more, "Sorry, usually he doesn't run away like that."

He then turns to me and holds my muzzle, "Don't do that again!" I feel guilty, and my ears fold back.

"He is pretty," The man nodded, "He looks like a wolf, is he a hybrid?"

Charlie gasps, and I'm surprised too. The man seems to take our surprise as a yes.

"He looks like the one I used to have," He says, answering the question before we ask. "How did you get him?"

I look at Charlie. He's not a fan of talking to strangers, let alone talking about me. When I notice that he gets uncomfortable, I run away so that he has an excuse to escape that. However, he seems to be alright as he sighs and then sits down on one the boxes beside the man, so I sit down beside him; but I pay close attention to his signs. If needed, I'll run.

"I found him," Charlie pets me and I lean my head against his leg, "His mother was shot by hunters, I think. There were five pups, he was the only one who was alive. The others had starved to death."

The man nods, and Charlie's face scrunches.

"And who are you?"

The man reaches out for Charlie, "John. I was recruited to go fight the war today. I just wanted to get some fresh air before I go."

'War?', I think to myself.

Charlie shakes hands with him in the weird way humans do to say hi, "And what about you?"

Charlie shrugs.

"I'm Charles. My dad was recruited too. I'm going to stay with my grandfather while he fights. I should go back to the train soon so that I don't miss it."

"I see. Tough times, right?" He caresses me again, "Where are you going to leave this guy?"

I tilt my head. What did he mean by that?

Apparently, Charlie is confused too, because all he does is ask, "What?"

"Most people leave their pets behind when war comes."

"What? Why would I do that?" Charlie pulls my leash and my ears fold back at what he's saying.

John sighs. "War, boy. Tough times make one take tough actions. You can't take care of them when you don't even know if you'll be alive in the end of the day yourself. It's not uncommon for people to leave their pets behind once they flee. I thought you were going to leave him somewhere."

Charlie stomps his foot on the ground, "I'd never, ever leave Balto behind. He's going with me, war or peace, I don't care."

I feel his hands on either side of my face as he caresses my ears, and I wish I could tell him I'd never leave him either. But I think he knows that.

"That's a beautiful philosophy you've got," John sighs and stands up, "But still, war might stand in your way. It doesn't care for values such as friendship, boy."

"Well, and I don't care for things such as war."

Charlie stands up and turns away from the man. I feel a tug on my leash as he pulls me alongside him. I stand still and look at the man one more time before Charlie calls me and we leave. The last thing I see is the man standing up and walking away as well.

We go back to the station and walk back into our train. Charlie doesn't say a word all the way.

When he sits down, I hear his stomach rumbling. Mine does the same.

The man we talked to mentioned a war, and I still don't know what's happening, but I think I have a better idea now. Unlike what I thought would happen, knowing more about our situation didn't make the changes we were facing any easier to take. In fact, it makes it harder.

When I look up at Charlie, I see that he's about to fall asleep on his seat. I lay down over his feet and try to make myself comfortable. When I'm almost falling asleep, Charlie reaches down and runs his hand over my neck and back.

"We'll be alright, Balto," He sighs, "I promise you."

I look at him again and take a deep breath.

We will, Charlie. I promise you too.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter III**_

 _ **The fox**_

* * *

I wake up when our train comes to a stop again, and I soon realize that the sun has just risen. We may have traveled and slept all night long, but I sure don't feel rested. Instead, I feel hungry and tired, and I really need to go to the bathroom.

Charlie is laying down on his seat, all crumpled and bracing himself. His legs are folded up against his chest and he's hugging his legs; his jacket over him like a blanket.

I lick his fingers that are hanging off the seat to wake him up, and soon enough, he blinks his eyes open. It's when I notice the dark circles under his eyes and I know that he didn't sleep any better than I did.

"Hey boy," His voice is drowsy and his eyes are barely open. He sits up on his seat and looks out the window as he stretches his body, letting out a huge sigh that seems to mix relief and annoyance.

I sit up and wait for him as he reaches up for his bag that he'd left on the shelf, and that's how I know that we've reached our destination – which I still don't know what is.

Charles' bag is small, it's the one he uses for short trips. However, I remember that he spent a few days packing those things before we left for the train station – clothes, a few pills, books, my food bowl; things he'd need to have for a long trip. Wherever we're going, I don't think we'll be going home any time soon.

He throws his bag over his shoulder and grabs my leash, taking us out of us cabinet and out of the train. We get out to a station where I'd never been before, but like the one back home, most of the people around us in here are crying human cubs.

I don't have much time to analyze our surroundings though, as Charlie hastens us out of the station and into the streets.

* * *

This seems to be small town, and it's nice enough. Unlike London, it has small streets with small buildings and a lot of green amongst the houses and stores. The sun has just risen, and there aren't many people on the streets yet.

We stop near a small wasteland.

"Balto," Charlie calls, and I look up at him with my tail wagging. He knees down and reaches for my leash, taking it off and letting me free, "Don't take too long, alright? I'll get us some food."

I wait for him to walk in a store from which comes a nice smell of bread and coffee before I run to the wasteland. I know he'll be worried if I'm not outside waiting for him when he's done, so I rush to do my necessities.

It's when my nose picks up a different smell, one that I hadn't felt in a while: the smell of another animal.

I pick up its track, and I can tell that it's a canine's smell. However, it doesn't seem to be that of a dog's, nor of a wolf's. It's somewhat sweeter and less strong than those.

I know I should go back to Charlie, but the smell gets my attention and suddenly, I just need to know what it is. I go further into the wasteland and distance myself from the street where civilization – and Charlie – is.

 _What are you?_

Asks a voice without an owner; and I jump up in alert.

 _What are you?_

The question is made again, and I swirl around trying to find who that voice belongs to; but I find nothing. It's a female voice, and it sounds scared yet curious.

 _I'm Balto,_ I reply anyway, hoping that that will get the mysterious voice owner to show herself

 _I didn't ask who you are, but what you are_ , she says, sounding annoyed this time; _your appearance says wolf, the collar around your neck says dog. You smell of humans yet you look like the wild._

 _I'm a dog!_ I tell her, and now I'm the one that sounds annoyed, _who is there? Show yourself!_

 _A dog that looks like a wolf, that's interesting. Or perhaps you're a wolf that lives like a dog?_

I hear a giggle and turn around to where the voice comes from. It's when I see who's been talking to me: a small, grey female fox comes out of the empty, dead trunk of an old fallen tree where she's been hiding.

 _Who are you?_ I ask her.

 _I'm a fox, isn't that rather obvious?_

 _I asked you who you are, not what you are,_ I say, almost quoting her previous words.

 _Well, you must really be a tamed dog, if you expect me to have a name. The forest doesn't require names, Balto, that is something the humans created. Only those weird creatures would think of giving someone a random word to identify themselves._

 _Humans aren't weird._ I say, and it's only after the words have left my mouth that I realize that that isn't completely true. I must say, humans are quite weird, that's part of who they are. However, she used the word as an insult to the humans.

And nobody insults Charlie.

 _No? Well, maybe living with them has changed your perception; or left you completely blind to their weirdness. Tell me, what another creature would spend their lives isolating themselves from the wild in those caves made of steel, only to then complain about the cities they build themselves? What creature would sacrifice their health working for the God they call money, and then spend the money to recover the health they lost for it?_

I sit still and think of her words.

 _But the weirdest ones aren't the humans, Balto. The weirdest ones are the dogs they call their own. The dogs such as yourself._

 _Excuse me?_

 _You must be a weird creature to devote your life to a human, and to continue loving them even after they've abandoned you…_

 _Charlie has not abandoned me!_ I bare my teeth at her. It angers me much whenever someone insults my boy, especially complete strangers. Who does this fox think she is?

 _Pardon me!_ She says and lets out a cry, _I just assumed that, since you're here in the wasteland with us wild critters._

 _I'm just taking some fresh air. Now, if you excuse me, I need to go back to my boy._ I say as I turn around to leave the wasteland.

 _Careful with the war,_ she tells me, and I stop on my tracks.

 _War?_ I try to find her to ask her what she meant, but when I look to where she was, I see that the fox is gone.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter IV**_

 _ **John**_

* * *

"Balto! Balto, where are you?"

I hear Charlie calling me, and although my first instinct is to immediately turn and run to him, I stay still for a few more seconds, looking for the fox that I was talking to. I still have questions I want answers for. But I look all around, and she seems to be gone; off to who knows where.

"Balto!"

Charlie calls again, and this time, I have no option but to leave before I can find the fox. I run out of the wasteland and into the town, and I see Charlie standing across the street.

I try to bark, but that's something I can't do. Instead, what leaves my mouth is the sound of a short, deep howl. Wolves don't bark. Charlie sees me and he looks relieved as he runs to me; bag jumping on his shoulder as he holds my leash and a brown paper bag on his hand.

"There you are!" He says as he knees down and puts the brown bag on the ground, reaching for my leash and attaching it to my collar again, "Hungry?"

The warm smell of food that comes from the bag makes my belly rumble, and I try to grab the bag with my mouth. However, Charlie notices it and holds my leash back before I can do it.

"Calm down, boy," He smiles, standing up, "We're supposed to share this."

He motions for us to move and I begin walking by his side. I wonder if we're just walking around, or if we have a specific destination. It's when Charlie stops and sticks his hand down his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper.

Charlie sighs as he puts the paper back in his pocket. I lick the hand that is holding my leash, hoping to comfort him; and it seems to startle him a bit before he pets me and scratches my ear. And just like that, we're back to walking.

However, we're walking much slower now, as Charlie looks to the houses around us. I wish I knew what he's looking for so that I could help him find it, but so far, I'm clueless. I look at his face, and it's when I see him smile and his eyebrows shoot up that I know he's found what he's looking for.

He holds tighter on my leash and we cross the street, stopping in front of a small yellow house; it's got a small garden and no gates in front of it. Is this where we're going to stay while in this town?

"John?" Charlie calls and approaches the door, knocking on it, "John! It's me, Charlie."

Who is John? This is the first time I'm ever hearing his name. Are we going to stay with him?

Charlie seems apprehensive when nobody answers his call. He looks to the windows to check if there's any movement in the house, I suppose, but the curtains are drawn and there is no sound coming from inside. I don't think anyone's home at all.

Charlie sighs and slams his back against the door, sliding to the ground and folding his legs. He slides his bag down his shoulder until it's laying by his side and takes the paper bag in his lap, opening it. I lay down by his side and wag my tail, laying my head on his knee and looking up at him.

"Are you making those puppy eyes to get food?"

He laughs at me and it makes me feel happy. Charlie pets me before opening the brown bag and taking out a sandwich. I jump up, the smell of food once again making my belly rumble; and I paw his knee to ask for a bite.

"Wow, calm down, boy," he tells me as he pushes me away a bit and lays the sandwich on the ground near me, "This one is for you."

I waste no time in eating it up, practically in one bite only, as Charlie laughs and takes his own sandwich out of the bag.

I'm still hungry when I finish my meal, but it's enough to fool my hunger for a while. I sit down by Charlie's side with my tongue out, panting. It's been too long since I drank any water, I realize.

"Thirsty?" Charlie asks, wiping his mouth.

Humans may be weird, but they can be smart. Like Charlie is.

He wipes his hands on his jacket after finishing his sandwich and reaches for his bag again. He takes out a bottle of water and turns the cap open, drinking half of it before he pours the rest slowly into his hand and holds it out for me. It's a bit hard to get it as a lot of it drops down through his fingers, but my thirsty is gone nevertheless.

"Charlie?"

Both Charlie and I look up and our eyes meet those of an old man wearing old green clothes. He smells of oil, gasoline, alcohol and something else I can't tell. I can tell, however, that these smells have become part of his scent. Staying with this man, if we must, won't be pleased.

"Hello," Charlie jumps up and wipes his hands on his clothes before reaching out, "Uh, John."

"You've grown," The man says with no expression, looking Charlie up and down. He drops a heavy, old leather bag he'd been carrying on the ground and it lets out a loud thud. John then approaches Charlie and shakes his hand, staining my boy's hand black.

"Uh, yeah, suppose I have." Charlie muttered and gulped. I can tell this John makes him nervous. "It's been a while."

"Sure has. Come on in," The man tries to walk around us, but then he stops by my side and glares down at me. His expression changes from neutral to disgusted. Sure, between the two of us I am the dirty one. "What is that?"

Excuse me?

"What?" Charlie asks as he pulls my leash to pull me closer.

"You father didn't mention a dog in his letter."

I can hear Charlie gulp, "Well, he should have. This is Balto, he's my dog."

John sighs heavily, "Listen kid, this is war. We might have to evacuate at any time. I don't have time to watch over you and an animal. Besides, feeding it costs money, money we don't have. I don't think we can keep that."

Charlie straightens himself up as I step forward.

"His name is Balto, he's not an _it_. He's my dog, my friend. I don't care if it's war, I'm not leaving him."

I look up at Charlie and smile. I'm not leaving you either buddy, ever. No matter what some old guy says.

* * *

 **This might feel short and slow, but it's how I want the beginning of the story to be. Besides, this is just a side project.**

 **To the review who asked what year this is, it's set in WWII, so 1939-1945. I'd rather not set a specific year so that I don't have as many historical events to follow and can be more creative.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Chapter V_**

 ** _Motherless pups_**

* * *

"Make sure he doesn't piss on the carpet, otherwise you'll have to clean it!" John practically yells at Charlie while he opens the door for us, clearly unhappy with the situation. It's no picnic for me either, if you want to know.

"Don't worry," Charlie pets the back of my head and looks down at me, "He'll behave. Right, Balto?"

I honestly want to piss on John's carpet just to piss the man off – no pun intended, but I know that doing so will get Charlie in trouble. So, I just wag my tail and decide to comply my boy's wishes against my true will.

We walk into a kitchen and the place is dark; there are no lights on and the curtains are drawn. The place smells like its owner, old and oily. John clicks the lights on and opens a window, motioning for Charlie to sit down on the table. Despite the new sources of light, the room remains dimly lit, like light refused to get in.

"Wait," John calls as he goes to a small, yellow old fridge, "Tie him to the doorknob. I don't want him on my feet while we eat."

As if I'd ever get close to his feet. Dead chance.

"But…" Charlie looked down and sighed, "Ok, John."

He grabs my leash and walks me to the door, tying the other end to the doorknob like he'd been ordered to do. I can't help letting out a small whimper and tilt my head when Charlie stands up and walks away again.

"Sorry, boy," He crunches down and hugs me as he whispers, "It's going to be alright. But this is what we have to do now."

I sigh and lay down. There isn't much I can do for now, I believe.

Charlie sits down on the table as John walks around the kitchen, fidgeting with several pots and bowls as he puts together a poor excuse for a meal. They stay in silence while he does it, and I can feel they're both a little tense. I can see Charlie's fiddling thumbs under the table, and more than anything I want to get close to him and comfort him, but the leash pulls on my neck when I try to move.

After minutes that felt like eternity, John approaches Charlie with two plates, one in each hand. He puts down one in front of Charlie and then sits across my boy, setting the other plate for himself.

"Thanks," Charlie whispered so lowly that I probably heard it better than John could. It takes him a while before he begins to eat it, and he doesn't look that pleased. I guess the taste isn't much better than the dull smell the food has.

More silence.

"So, you're here," John begins to say. Humans do this weird thing, small talk. I don't know how humans cannot rejoice the peace of mind that is the silence, instead, they make it awkward; and try to make it less awkward by having awkward conversations. I don't get it.

"Yeah, I am," Charlie says, and I notice he's playing with his food rather than eating it.

"Are you afraid?" John asks, and my attention is peaked. Afraid? Why would Charlie be afraid?

Charlie swallows hard, despite not having chewed on anything, "Not really. I mean, dad should be scared, he's there fighting. But I'm here. What's there to fear?" He shrugs.

James is fighting? What is he fighting?

"You're brave. That's good," John seems to smile, but it doesn't last, "But don't let yourself be fooled. Too much bravery will lead you to danger. The worst defects are those that, when used wisely, can be qualities."

Charlie drops the fork and it hits his plate with a dry, low thud, "I guess."

It's obvious that Charlie is not interested in talking, but this man doesn't seem to get it. Instead of dropping it, he keeps on talking.

"How's your dad been? You know, before he had to leave?"

"Fine, I guess," Charlies shrugs again, tapping his fingers on the table, "He only told me that this is his duty, this is what he has to do, and so on. We never talk anyway. He just told me to be brave and behave while I'm here."

"You better," John says harshly before he adds a laugh to lighten up the mood. Well, it doesn't work. "Hey, what about the mutt?"

My head shoots up and I look at him with a low growl. Charlie looks back at me with disapproving eyes and I drop my ears back. My boy then looks back at John and sighs.

"What about him?" Charlie mutters.

"What's his name again?"

"Balto." Charlie replies and I must control myself to resist the knee-jerk reaction to run to him when he says my name.

"Balto?" John coughs, "What does that even mean?"

Charlie shrugs, "Nothing. I found him when he was a newborn puppy and I took him home with me. While on my way I spotted a guy fixing a fence on a house nearby, and his toolbox said 'Balto'. I don't know whether that was a brand, or his name, or what. I just named him that. I don't know, felt right."

"Weird name." John looks over at me, "But kind of fits him. Where'd you find him?"

"In a lair."

"Excuse me?"

"Uh," Charlie sits up straight and looks back at me again. Will he tell John the truth about me? He's always made it a big deal about telling other humans about my origins, which I never understood. "In a lair. I was exploring the forest behind our home, and found a lair with four dead puppies that had starved to death, and a fifth one barely hanging on. And that was him. I guess a stray dog must have given birth there and gotten lost from her puppies."

"How long ago was that?"

"Five years ago."

John looks confused, "How old are you now?"

Charlie lets out a small laugh, "I'll be sixteen in a month."

"So, you found him after your mom passed." John states.

Charlie swallows hard again.

"Yeah," It's all he says as he bows his head down and close his eyes. "A month later."

I tilt my head.

I never met Charlie's mother.

The very first memory I have is of his smell, his hands holding me when I still had my eyes closed. As I grew into a puppy and began walking and exploring the world around me, I picked up more smells – James', firewood, food, meat. But I realized that his house lacked a female odor, there was no sight of a mother anywhere. Just the pup Charlie and his father James. I wondered if maybe humans didn't need females to reproduce like wolves and dogs do, but soon I realized that Charlie did have a mother, but she wasn't there.

I later learned she had passed away.

Much like me, Charlie's mother left her pup when he needed her most. But I was lucky enough to have Charlie come and rescue me, Charlie was left alone with James. That was when I knew, I had to take care of him as well. He might not be a puppy, but he needs to be cared for. And that's what I've doing ever since.

And that's what I'll always do.

"How did you convince your dad to let you keep him without having her there to persuade him into it?" John asks with a sly smile, "Your father has always been tough to talk to."

"I didn't," Charlie folds his arms, "I walked in and said I was going to keep him. James didn't object. I took it upon myself to raise him, and so I did, and here he is. I don't care for what James says. I don't even listen half of the time anyway."

John smacks his lips and wipes his mouth with the tablecloth, "You still don't call him 'dad', hum?"

Charlie doesn't say anything. He's sitting with his back on me, but I have the feeling he glares at John while he stays in silence.

"Alright," John says and burps before he gets up from the table, "You done?" He asks and points to Charlie's plate.

"Yeah," Charlie says, but he takes the plate away before John can do it, "I'll go feed the rest to Balto. He's hungry."

I sure am. The thought of food – even if it's John's food – makes my stomach rumble and I begin fidgeting with my front paws to hurry Charlie.

"Stop that!" John yells at me and stomps his foot, "You'll ruin the flooring!"

"Sorry," Charlies says on my behalf as I crunch down and hide my tail under my legs, "I'll take him outside and feed him."

Charlie rushes to me with the plate on one hand and attempts to untie the leash, but it proves to be hard with one hand only. He leans down and unlatches the leash from my collar as he opens the door, "Boy, follow," He tells me, and I obey, walking by his side.

We walk around the house and go to the backyard. Charlie sits under a tree and puts the plate on the floor, but as much as I'm hungry, I sit by his side and nuzzle him instead of eating. I feel sorry for how I behaved and how I made John yell at him. If only I could bite that man.

"It's alright, Balto," He says as he pets my head, "Go eat, boy, you need it."

I lick his cheek and then go to the plate. Indeed, the food isn't the best, but my hunger doesn't discriminate. I hear Charlie take his shoes off and he pets my back legs with his bare foot. I wag my tail while eating, and he giggles at the sight.

"Good boy, Balto." He sighs and looks up the sky, water-filled eyes, "Good boy."

* * *

 **It's been interesting to write from the POV of a dog. I have to constantly remind myself not to have Balto say anything that he couldn't know, or to imagine what a dog can or can't see, but it's fun nevertheless. Hope I did a good job.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	6. CANCELLED

**Hello everyone! I hope you all are doing well.**

 **I really wish I could come back to this with a new chapter, but unfortunately, that's not the case. If you haven't noticed by this "chapter's" title, I'm cancelling this fic.**

 **I know it sucks when authors do this. Authors of stories I've followed and loved have done this and I know it's just very frustrating. But there really is no point in trying to do something I've lost all passion for, and I'm afraid that's the case here. I wouldn't want to write half-assed chapters just for the sake of it, and I'm sure you all wouldn't want to read those either.**

 **I haven't even touched this fic in a year now, and there are a couple of reasons for that. I started it as a small side project because I had nothing else to write. Ever since, I've started bigger and better fics that have taken up my time and interest. Not only that, but I now realize that I just jumped onto this when I started so I don't think I planned it as well as I should have. Looking at it now, I don't like where it's at, I don't like the beginning, I just don't like it. So rather than try to fix something that's in pieces, I thought I should just cancel it. I thought a lot about it over the past year so hopefully I've come to the right decision.**

 **Thank you so, so much to all the people who read this and followed and favorited and reviewed – the support of every single one of you means the world to me, always have and always will. I am just so sorry that I won't be able to keep entertaining you with this.**

 **That being said, I hope you're alright and that you'll have a great day!**

 **Thank you for everything and my apologies,**

 _ **Dellinah.**_


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